


How She Quit the Desert

by WhiskyTangoFoxtrot



Series: Water Seeker AU [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Guns, M/M, Post Apocalyptic AU, Random minor characters, Tanks, the seeker goes by her title
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-04
Updated: 2015-10-04
Packaged: 2018-04-24 16:28:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4926835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WhiskyTangoFoxtrot/pseuds/WhiskyTangoFoxtrot
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A post-apocalyptic AU, inspired by the Tank Girl movie from the 90's.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How She Quit the Desert

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SpaceDiva](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SpaceDiva/gifts).



"You'll find her, Varric. Find her and bring her back here."

The dwarf nodded and dragged his copper goggles down over his eyes, then disappeared into the hatch of the FN-Harl Mark IV battle tank. His thick muscular arm pulled the hatch shut behind him, and Lavellan stepped back as the engine roared to life. She raised her left hand, her green Mark glowing dimly against the blinding mountain sun, and slowly the chains of Skyhold's gates clinked together. The heavy metal doors swung wide, and the huge machine carried their hopes across the bridge and down the side of the mountain.

Varric adjusted the controls, angling the solar panels upright to catch as much power as they could, and the influx meant it was fast going until they came to the dead treeline. A brisk wind shook the outer, armored panels, adding to the loud rumbling of the Nevarran engines. Even under the occasional shade, they picked up yet more speed, and the dials in front of the dwarf began to turn from yellow to green. He touched a few more buttons and then entered co-ordinates on the keyboard.

The Herald had named this beast of a tank "Solas," the Elven word for pride, and she and Varric had spent many hours lovingly rebuilding it from the hunks of scrap they'd found on the Storm Coast. The two Artificers had made improvements, too, widening the chassis and adding another axle underneath to support the weight of small bunks and storage. The thing was made for long term operations, and it was just as well, if it meant they had to cross the southern continent, through hostile Orlais, to get to the deserts on the other side where rumor had it, the Water Seeker was hiding.

They needed the last remaining Seeker to lead them across the dried up sea and up into the Marches, to the north, to find a safe place to settle that was far from Emperor Gaspard and his vile armies. Three spent years retrofitting their arsenal to make the journey, but the Herald would not undertake such an endeavor without a concrete destination, one that guaranteed water. And so she sent her trusted allies off into the wastelands to search for the final piece.

\---

When they found her she'd buried herself in the side of a sand dune, sucking whatever moisture she could from it. She was almost bone dry, from weeks spent leathering out in the desert, unable to Seek more water than she needed to sustain her life. Feral and Varric lifted her out of the dune, dusted off her face, and trundled her back towards the giant desert bus that held a crafty Dalish hunter and the odd Mage from Tevinter, Dorian. 

Gaspard gathered power in the south, collecting many greedy Water Seekers in a last desperate bid to find and control the source of life on the continent. But they knew of one, one Water Seeker that remained, who still believed that water should be for everyone, and not solely the gentry or the monied landowners of Thedas. She fled from her siblings-in-arms who abandoned their order, embraced the luxuries of the rich. She hid amongst the ruins of the Western Approach, at first sliding her blade beneath the throats of bandits and the skulls of quillbacks without prejudice, and by night, rolling into the ground to gather what she could. After a time she realized that the other Seekers who said they were joining her would not be. She had been sure she would die, having absorbed as much as she dared and despairing, the desert drier than it was when she came, when the two dwarves and their dowsing sticks gently removed her from the hole she'd assumed would be her grave.

The one with the green tattoos around his eyes shoved her still-prone from through the manway, and the one with the red tunic and ponytail shoved her feet in. She fell to the deck with a thump, and a clatter behind her told her they'd found her belt holster and pistols. The Elven woman fell to her knees and opened a can of something carbonated in the Seeker's face, spraying bubbles across her eyes, cheeks, and mouth. She rolled her head towards the liquid, and slowly began to drink down a large portion of room-temperatureq lager. She sputtered and choked, and then sat up and grabbed the can from the other woman's hand, upending it and finishing it with a long, satisfied belch.

Green Eyes pulled the hatch shut and turned the valve, and Red Tunic (who shot her a roguish smile as she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand) opened a small hatch in the wall and produced a towel. He held it out to her, and she eyed it warily as it steamed.

"Go on. Take it." He held it out and looked at her with softness, care in his Amber eyes. "I'll show you where you can rest."

She swayed a little when she nodded, wiped her face and arms, and gestured for him to lead the way. He asked, "Was that beer the first thing you've had in awhile?"

Her knees weakened underneath her, and he caught her with an arm around her waist. It was warm, and pleasant, and certainly the alcohol leading her mind afield. He chuckled when she nodded blearily once again. "Don't worry, Seeker, we need you too much to really roofie you." 

She laughed weakly as he led her to a ladder on the other side of the main chamber, and up into a small alcove above the bridge, separated from it by a net of stretchy black mesh. He shrugged her exhausted form down into his huge makeshift hammock, slung a thin, Dwarven lace blanket over her. He grimaced as his foot caught in the mesh, but pushed himself backwards to stand up again on the landing. The Seeker rolled over to peer at him.

She looked at him carefully, noting the red rims of his eyes, the slump in his shoulders. "Is this your space?" She asked softly.

Varric nodded slowly, a question in his eyes.

The Seeker looked at him for another moment, before scooting over and raising the blanket. He crawled in next to her, and was asleep a second after she was.

\---

They stayed in his nest for a full thirty-six hours, until their arrival at the Rebellion's fueling station on the eastern slope of the Frostbacks. The ancient Elvehn baths once dedicated to Mythal were now dedicated to the war effort, except for the twenty or so shower chambers where the water fell down from the slopes in such a way that a person could get a decently clean. The Seeker felt awash in the feeling of water swirling around her in the earth again, and when the elf handed her a dry towel, pants, socks", and a t-shirt that read "Kiss me I'm Dalish," she had to smile and follow the slender woman down the stone stairs to the sound of the rushing water.

A fine mist poured over them, and it was the most luxurious feeling the Seeker could ever remember. Her skin and her soul drank it in, and she smiled and stored some for later while they walked. The elf turned a corner and pointed to one of the side chambers, entering one on her own. She walked into the next, and stripped. She could feel the water cycling towards them in the earth, moved by great cisterns and walking circles of small pachyderms. While she waited for the water to come, she reached for one of the bars of soap in the basket on the floor. It smelled fine enough. Something citrus maybe? The water surged through the rock behind her, and she smiled as she felt it crawl up over the ledges of the chambers, than it washed over her (and of course the other people in the other chambers) in wide warm pulses. She could feel the water both with her skin and her abilities, and it was wonderful to be surrounded by it it, enveloped dearly like a mother's arms for a moment, and she could barely breathe. She realized with a jump that it was because she stood directly under the dripping ledge. She stepped out of the cascade of water, and lathered herself up, then rinsed in the next great pulse of water, holding her breath and scrubbing across her scalp to get the soap out of her overgrown hair. 

One more short pulse of water, and she stood beneath it with her mouth open, drinking as much as she could. Her stores were almost full, and it had not been so in a very long time. 

\---

"Feeling better after your rest then?" Dalish asked Varric pointedly. They were standing together in line in the galley for a bowl of ram stew and a wedge of brown bread. It was impossible to tell if the food at this outpost really was that good, or if the fact you got to eat it while you were clean made it taste better. "You slept for a long time."

"Shit, Dalish, I was up from the time we left Skyhold." He busied his hands with his scarf and goggles, dusting them off even though they were spotless, then pushed them back up on his forehead to keep his hair from his face while he ate. "I was in the chair for three days."

"And you drank every last can of energy drink in the tank. Also you ate all the chips."

As if it would make any difference, he said again, "I was in the chair for three days. And I paid for the chips. It wasn't like we needed the cans for ammo." He took his bowl and his bread and strode to one of the long tables in the mess hall, where he sat and began shoveling stew into his face gracelessly. Dalish followed and sat across from him, eating perhaps more delicately but no less enthusiastically. More and more Rebel soldiers began to pour into the great stone chamber, and their conversations bounced loudly off of the walls.

_Someone_ walked into the room, but it seemed that only Varric was aware of her presence. The hairs on his chin stood up, and he felt her stroll through the mess line, eyes down demurely as she politely accepted the food she was offered. There seemed to be a shimmering refraction around her, that grazed the outline of her form, and she met his eyes across the room. He dropped his spoon, transfixed by her glittering dark eyes, by the angle of her cheekbones, sharp enough to cut stone, surprised to be caught looking (though he didn't know why) and swallowed the bite of stew he was chewing. She was coming towards him, holding a steaming black iron bowl in a soft green towel, with ribbons strung into her pitch black braid, her bangs woven up into it, and curls and colors trailing down her head to the back of her neck. Cut glass beads were strung and tied on the ends, in a rainbow that matched the new suspenders she wore to hold up her slightly-too-loose, dark green cargo pants. She approached the table and sat down next to Dalish, who jumped, startled at her presence.

The elf was faster to recover than the dwarf, and smiled at the Seeker, "Where'd you get the suspenders?"

She peered at the other woman enigmatically, then turned her grey eyes at Varric. Without taking her gaze from his, she said, "There are some few people who can see through my ability to hide. I traded with a charming little girl for a gallon of water and some apples I got from a Silent Sister."

He found himself unable to look away, drawn to her as he had been the day they'd found her (and for no reason he'd pushed her into his sleeping space in a feeble gesture of protection.) "And the ribbons?" He asked, for lack of anything better.

"The pachyderm keeper is deft with scissors and such, and was grateful to have her water pressure issues addressed." The Seeker dug her spoon into the stew, and grunted appreciatively at her first bite. They ate in silence for awhile, until Cassandra said. "I have been preparing to travel today, though you haven't yet told me where we are going."

"When we are resupplied, and in the Solas, I'll tell you more." Varric said. "Many eyes and ears around here. I appreciate you keeping yourself Silenced. The fewer people who see you here, the better. I'd hate to have Gaspard's assassins descend on us before we can leave the Outpost."

Dalish nodded and tilted her head. "He's right, my Lady. You probably should go back to the bus and stay there. We'll bring you your meals, and whatever else you require for the journey."

She seemed to shrink in on herself for a moment, but Varric realized she was reapplying her Silence, and inverting it somehow to use it as a form of stealth. She put other Seekers to shame with her command of her abilities, and it was all the more impressive because her talents were so very rare. Small wonder Lavellan was so desperate to meet her, with her own improbable set of skills.

"I agree," she assented, and finished her bread. She dusted her hands together and stood, grabbing both hers and Varric's empty bowls. She looked down at him with a curious expression in her eyes. "Walk back with me?"

He nodded and followed her as she put their dishes in the bin, and they rinsed their hands in the small trickling fountain basin in the wall near the door. A small tingle started at the base of his skull and he looked over at her. "Are you doing that?"

"It might look odd if you were seen walking about and talking to yourself." She murmured. "If we are quiet, we will go by mostly unnoticed."

"Mostly?" He whispered.

"Some, like you, can see through my Silence. Others are, ah, dormant sensitives. Many don't know the ability lies within them." She sighed. "For almost all, it is better that way. Most die never knowing."

They walked the rest of the way to the FN-Harl in silence, pausing to let a group of children chase after a pack of roo pups, all of them giggling merrily. One of the pups, a female, turned and winked at the Seeker, who smiled at the child prettily before they passed by. Varric was warmed by that smile. He figured it was rare. They reached the hatch of their tank, and he spun the dial on the door a few times, right, left, right and pulled it open. "Milady." He bowed, flourishing his hand.

She gripped the loose seams on the sides of her pants, pulling them out as if in a curtsy, (Varric grinned at her, and she flushed) then climbed inside. 

\---

She was enthralled by the numerous screens on the bridge of the Solas, and Varric showed her the lever that made the tank roll forward, and the one that turned the front and rear axels. When she noticed the ladder leading up, she could not help but climb into the turret. The gunnery instructions were drawn in charcoal on an old piece of greasy newspaper that smelled a little. It read:

_can in the hole_  
_close the hatch  
_push the red button__

Underneath was drawn a cartoon of a bare ass being hit with something explosive, and the word "BOOM" in red letters. The Seeker smiled a bit, since no one could see her. Varric called up. "Think you can handle it, if we get into trouble?"

"This, ah, cartoon makes it look easy enough. I'm usually more of a small firearms fighter."

"So you'll need ammo. And batteries. And maybe a vest? I might be able to build you something, I've got some parts laying round here." He climbed the ladder behind her, and wedged himself up between the console and the chair. "Well it's a bit more complicated than that." He said, pointing at the dials and buttons on the console. 

The Seeker watched his face as he explained how to aim and fire the small modified launcher. She could not say what drew her to him so, the scar across his nose wrinkling just a little to one side, as he spun the dial next to her. They were close enough to touch, and she found herself entirely distracted by it, the mere brush of his fingertips against her arm enough to bring a flush to her cheeks. His hands were warm, like the rest of him that had wrapped so carefully around her as she slept, and she leaned a bit closer to get a better look at the controls. A screen popped to life, and she jumped.

"Well, hello, there!" There was a woman, face in harsh light and cast oddly by the green tones of the communicator screen. She was clearly a Dalish elf, with an open expression and dark hair and dark blood writing spidering around her eyes. "You must be the Seeker? Is Cadash around? Or Varric?"

"I'm here," Varric said behind her. He slid down the ladder, and she could hear him flip a switch, and then the vague soft hum of another monitor. He was sitting in the captains chair, and the lights glinted off the lenses of his goggles as he moved. "You look well. Something up?"

"A little birdie told me you'd made it to the Outpost, and you didn't call? I'm glad you're safe." She smiled at him. "Has she been briefed?"

"Not yet. I was getting around to it."

"Well better get on that, then. Take care. I'm expecting you in five days."

"Yes ma'am. Disconnect." The monitor blinked out, taking the cheerful elf's face with it. She went down the ladder and turned around as Varric swung the conn to face her. He began, "I suppose you know we didn't go all that way to find you out of the kindness of our hearts."

She ducked her head in assent. "I assumed." The beads in the ends of her ribbons clicked together as she moved to lean against the console, crossing her long, lithe limbs in front of her. "So tell me."

\---

Dalish deftly maneuvered the Solas over the mountainside, occasionally chuckling as she avoided an obstacle or ran something over. The random chortle was often accompanied by the sickening crunch of debris beneath the great chain-covered wheels of the vehicle or a stomach sinking lurch in the odd direction. Varric sat at the console table bolted into the wall near the bunks and fiddled with the Seeker's new armor. She sat next to him on the floor, cleaning her pistols.

The dwarf had his goggles down, and was using a Small soldering iron to piece together an ornate purple hinged vest with Dawnstone buckles and pauldrons made from hammered left over guimauve tins. Sparks flew off the metal while he worked, humming under his breath to himself. The left over remnant of dress armor Lavellan had disliked seemed to suit the Seeker just fine, even with the subtle swirling eye in the middle of the chest piece. The woman herself rested calmly at his feet, as though he hadn't suggested the previous day that she was the Rebellion's only hope to flee permanently the oppressive regime of Orlais. She seemed to find it a common goal, as Lavellan had expected. 

The conversation he thought would be difficult, she made easy. She said, "I expected to die, when you found me, and thought it better than being Gaspard's slave. If I am being offered a chance to flee him completely, of course I will." Then she smiled at him, and a jolt of power shot through his spine down to the small of his back, and warmth spread through his belly. "Will you, ah--" She turned faintly pink, but did not fail to look at his face. "Will you be coming along?"

She did not stop to chastise herself for asking such a foolish question, instead shaking her head and ploughing on. "What I mean to say, is, will we still be in the same, ah, will we travel together?" 

Varric grinned a little, and shut off the soldering iron, and raised his goggles. "Sure, Seeker." He chuckled as he stood the adjusted armored vest on the table. "I'm sure you could ask her Worship for that, if you wanted. Let this cool before you put it on."

She looked down, avoiding his gaze now, then clicked the battery clips back into her pistols before making sure the safety switches were on and holstering them. Much like experiencing the water move through the soil, having the proper weight of freshly cleaned bolt pistols in her familiar wyvern hide holster made her feel more her old self, before the cataclysm in the Deep Roads, before Gaspard purged the fields and forests of life and lyrium and salted the earth. She got to her feet, and crossed the small space to the window, leaning against the side of the tank with her head against the metal vents, and let herself get lost in her thoughts. 

It was quiet for a few minutes more, before a red light began to flash on the console in front of Dalish. The elf shouted, "Asses up, it's the Reds!"

Cadash and Dorian tumbled out of one of the bunks with their clothing and hair mussed. Varric raised an eyebrow at them, but said nothing they hustled into their armor and grabbed up their weapons. They separated and went to the ladders on either side of the bunks, each climbing to a turret. Cadash set up his sniper rifle while Dorian began to cast barrier spells and fire mines. The Seeker sensed their urgency, and climbed the third ladder, up to the cannon, and clumsily pried open the ammunition bay. Dalish hollered, "Left!" And the whole vehicle lurched around an explosion in the dusty mountainside. The Seeker was thrown into the console, and the cannon went off, spraying a cloud of dust behind them, doing nothing to stop the advance of what seemed to be a small army.

At a second glance, she realized it was probably twenty five or so men and women, clad in red painted patchwork armor, waving rifles and pistols and polearms in the air as they rode tandem on rumbling, high-handled motorbikes. Women stood up in iron stirrups behind their men, and some of the armed folk were barely more than children, but there was a desperate menace in their eyes as they sped up to try to catch up to the FN-Harl. She undid the latch of the metal grates, and stuck her arm out to fire one pistol. It tagged one of the drivers in the shoulder, and he howled his pain, clutching his shoulder. He maintained control of his bike, and his rider whipped up her rifle and fired back at the turret. She felt a tug on her leg. "Seeker, down!" Varric shouted, dragging her back into the hold of the tank as the blast arced over her head. She pulled the hatch shut and let him climb up past her, trying desperately to ignore the way his body slid against hers. _Not the time._

She noticed another hatch on the side panel, and ran to it, prying it open and sticking one shoulder out to fire at the closing horde. Dorian's mines exploded beneath the speeding vehicles, taking out three of them, and Cadash was deadly with the rifle, killing four more. That left five remaining bikes, three ridden by huge lumbering Qunari, their horns glinting in the bright sunlight, engines rumbling like the buzzing of a million bees. The Seeker's pistol blasts punctuated Dorian's magic, and suddenly, the cannon fired, eliminating another bike in a jumble of fire and limbs.

The tank's engine roared and Dalish veered hard to her right, down the steep slope of the mountain, over the rocky trails. The bikes gathered up higher, on their nine, gunners firing at the huge vehicle while it picked up speed. Varric desperately turned the cannon turret and fired three more blasts in quick succession underneath their wheels. The bikes veered away, thundering across the mountainside and up higher towards the tree line before descending again, this time easing forward and circling each other as they closed. Cadash fired his rifle again, before hopping down from his perch and running to a hatch in the floor. He lifted it, revealing two tanks of fuel, and pulled the flask out of his pocket to dump it into one of them. He shouted "Floor it!" Dalish pushed the lever in her left hand forward, and the tank sped up, crashing through the dry brush and rumbling into the distance, leaving a cloud of pebbles and dust in its wake.

The roar of the bikes receded, and Dorian cast a cloaking spell before he clambered down from his post, tugging on the hem of his armored jacket. "What a terrible way to arise from a nap. I shall have circles beneath my eyes for days."

"You're still pretty, my love." Cadash sidled up to the Mage and put an arm on his waist, smiling softly when the other man relaxed into him. 

\---

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you liked this. I will most likely continue it, in short stories when I feel like it, because this sandbox is a fun little sandbox. Please, feel free to comment, as I have no beta, and really I'm the only one who reads these before they go up :)
> 
> Thanks for reading!


End file.
